


Any Which Way

by dramady, edonyx



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Adommy - Fandom, American Idol RPF, lambliff
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-14
Updated: 2010-09-14
Packaged: 2017-10-11 20:16:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/116657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dramady/pseuds/dramady, https://archiveofourown.org/users/edonyx/pseuds/edonyx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b> One way into Adam's big bed is by way of sex. That's a really good way, actually.</p><p><b>Authors' Notes:</b> warning about dead baby jokes and just a series of bad jokes, period.</p><p>Find our OF <a href="http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=Madeleine+Delaney&x=0&y=0">here</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Any Which Way

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred, or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.

"What crawls around and goes 'clank-clank-clank'?" Tommy asks Adam, as they watch a movie. They're both comfortable but not quite tired; it's late and there are plenty of miles on the bus to go before they stop again.

"What?" Attention diverted, Adam turns to look at Tommy, brows furrowed. "What goes what?"

"What crawls around and goes 'clank-clank- _clank_ '," Tommy repeats, as if Adam's a little slow. "A baby in a bear trap." And he waits for his groan. Or smack. Or, actually, both, considering that it's Adam he told the joke to.

"A ... what?! A ... that's disgusting." So Tommy gets the swat and Adam wrinkles his nose. "Please don't tell me this is a start to one of those dead baby joke things where you tell every one you know. I'll do something rash."

"Like what?" Tommy leans back on the couch, grinning. "Why did the dead baby cross the road? Because it was stapled to the chicken! Ba-dum-CHING. Thanks, tip your waitress." And speaking of drinks, Tommy gets up to grab a can of beer for himself and a bottle of water for Adam. "OR! What's red and silver and can only move in circles? A baby with a spear through it. Oh yeah, I'm hot tonight!"

"STOP." Before Tommy can sit, he's shoved by Adam's feet. "You don't get to sit next to me if you're going to tell those shitty jokes. Here. Here's a better joke. Are you ready for a really good one?" One sculpted eyebrow arches in challenge.

"I was _born_ ready." Tommy sits on one of the chairs and leans forward in expectation. There's no way anything Adam can say is going to be better - subjectively better? - than Tommy's dead baby jokes.

Leaning forward to mimic his posture, Adam lowers his voice. "What do you get when you mix fifty female pigs and fifty male deer?" he asks, eyes narrowed.

"Don't know?" Tommy answers. He's surprised he hasn't heard this joke before; it's one of the things his memory's good at holding onto, even if names and faces kind of skim by him, most of the time. "I give up."

Ha! Adam's face shows nothing but triumph. "A hundred sows and bucks. Get it?! Ha!" And he laughs, uncapping the water and taking a celebratory sip. "Way better than dead baby jokes, baby."

For a second, Tommy thinks about it. And then for another second. And _then_ he gets it, and laughs. "Oh! 'cause there's fifty bucks and fifty- yeah. I get it. What do you call a man with no arms and no legs and lies on the ground?" Since Adam's regained his title of HBIC - as well as Head Joker In Charge - Tommy sits down next to him, feet up on the edge of the coffee table. "Matt."

Adam puts his face in his hands. Then he kicks Tommy in the shins. Hard. You wouldn't think with bare feet it would hurt that bad, but it does. Then he gets up and fishes out the container of pineapple from the fridge. "Crowd was good tonight."

"You suck _ass_ ," Tommy grumbles, rubbing his leg. "The crowd's always good. I mean, they love you, that's for sure." He's eyeing the pineapple that Adam brings over. "What do you call a man with no arms and no legs, floating in the water?" The motion of Tommy's head mimics the word, but in an entirely different context. "Bob. Gimme some pineapple."

"Kiss my ass. I'm not giving you anything until you quit telling those terrible jokes. How old are you? These are jokes a twelve-year-old would tell. No way." Sitting in the corner of the sofa, Adam pries open the top and digs in his fork.

"Fine. No more jokes." Tommy shuffles to the other end of the couch and gives Adam his best version of puppy eyes. "You know what _is_ a joke? The Last Exorcism. I made LP go with me when you were doing that radio stuff, and it _sucked._ Are we watching the Home channel?" He pokes his fingers into the container, grabbing a chunk of pineapple to pop in his mouth. "Way better with v'nilla yogurt," Tommy muffles around his chewing.

"When did you last wash your hands?" Rolling his eyes, Adam gave Tommy the container. "There are a lot of germs in the world, you know." He gets to his feet again and goes back to the fridge, peering in. "Was it really that bad? It looked good."

"It was boring, then it was really good, then it was bad, then it was _really_ bad." Tommy holds the pineapple out to Adam. "I only wanted the one piece, and I totally washed my hands the last time I peed. You can smell them if you want." He watches the line of Adam's back. "C'mere, eat your fuckin' pineapple. You lick me open on stage but sharing food is weird? Really?"

"When you reach your hands into the container? Absolutely. And I'm absolutely not going to smell your hands." Adam reappears from the fridge with a tub of hummus. Then, with pita chips from the cupboard, he sits again, sticking a protective foot out. "Keep your grubby paws away."

"Uh, hello? When you stick your tongue in my mouth, there's a pretty good chance of germ-swapping." Tommy puts the lid back on the pineapple and puts it in the fridge. The pita chips look pretty good, too. Who buys the food for the bus, anyway?! And how does Adam know where it's all stashed? "I don't double-dip..." Tommy even bats his eyelashes a little.

"Oh my God, you're a serious bottomless pit. How you don't weigh eight thousand pounds, I will never know." Adam hugs the bag to his chest. "Get your own. Eat those Jalapeno death chips in there or something."

"We've got _death_ chips?!" Tommy abandons all hope on the hummus and pita chips and rummages around in the cupboard for the Jalapeno chips. Content with those, he sits on the other end of the couch and puts a leg over Adam's. "I was kinda big before, when I was in Screw? We lived on beer and nachos, I think. Now I just poach other peoples' food." He wonders what the Jalapeno chips would taste like dipped in hummus.

"I guess as diet plans go, that's not a bad one. You get exercise dodging. _Don't_ even think about it," Adam warns, expression fierce. "Keep your paws off my hummus, Tommy Joe, or I will tie you to your stanky bunk and not let you out."

"My bunk is _not_ stanky!" Tommy eats exactly six chips before closing the bag and putting it away. Oh yeah, now he needs a fresh beer to put out the fucking _fire_ in his mouth. But will he admit defeat to Adam? Never. But Tommy all but chugs the beer that he's put on the table, and fetches a second from the fridge. "Can I stay in your bunk instead?"

"We're on the wrong bus and I don't have a bunk," Adam reminds him, happily dipping his chips into the hummus and eating them slowly and almost luxuriously, humming to himself. "My big bed is waiting for me in the other bus." And he smiles.

"Okay, I don't give a shit if you hog the hummus or whatever, but can I at least not sleep in a coffin tonight? Besides, how often do _you_ get to sleep with someone?" Tommy lies back, spread out as long as he can, resting his beer on his chest.

"Well, when you put it that way," Adam smirks. "You manage to make both of us sound pathetic. You'll have to wait til we stop before we can get in the other bus. Are you sure you don't want to sleep with Liz?" he asks, innocence painted all over his face.

Tommy blows a raspberry at Adam. "We're not... you know. Exclusive or anything. It's just what it is." Which is what it is with Adam. Sometimes it overwhelms Tommy, a little. Not that much, though. Mostly he enjoys it. "We _are_ pathetic. We're on the road sleeping in _coffins._ Well, you're not. But you have to share tonight."

"I have to." Once again, Adam's eyebrow arches. "So it's whether you want dick or pussy?" Instinctively, his nose wrinkles. Not much of a choice if you ask him. "And tonight it's dick? Or tonight, it's you forcing your way into my bed so you don't have to sleep in your stanky bunk?"

"I'll take what's behind door number three, Bob. I'm going with dick plus a nice bed instead of my bunk. Which is _not_ stanky, stop saying that." Tommy makes his way closer to Adam, breaking out every cute expression he knows Adam likes. "Besides, it's not like you get to complain. You're getting off, out of it."

"You're such a slut. How'd I become surrounded by bi-boys?" But Adam throws his arm around Tommy's shoulder. "I think Taylor changed the sheets," he adds with a sly grin.

"You and _Taylor?!_ " Tommy bursts out laughing. "Actually, how am I not surprised. Honestly. This is my surprised face." And he pulls out his patented Tommy Joe Ratliff expression of absolutely nothing at all. He tucks himself up against Adam's side, flirting a little more outrageously by tugging on Adam's earlobe with his teeth. "It's because you're lucky."

"Luck has nothing to do with it," Adam answers. "One of these days, I'll find an all-the-way gay boy. I know they're out there somewhere. Someone who appreciates my _skills_." His hand snakes its way down the collar of Tommy's shirt to toy with a nipple. "And you can have pretty babies."

"Damn right I'm having pretty babies. Eventually. Can't let these genes go to waste." Tommy smiles and moves to make Adam's touch easier, his nipples hard and cut-through with two mismatched rings. Not like Adam's nice, neat barbells, anyway. "And I do appreciate your skills, trust me." Like the time that Adam had finished with Tommy and Tommy had been lying on his back, breathless and wordless for almost half an hour. It's some kind of silence-record, for Tommy.

Flicking the ring up and down, Adam smirks again, kissing the bare part of Tommy's neck. That night had been a few weeks when distraction was a very good thing; he says nothing more. He settles more into the sofa and he _tugs_.

Tommy goes tense and he sucks a quick breath, surprised. "Dude, it's more like a door knocker than a pull-ring. But I think you could make me say things if you kept pulling." One skinny shoulder comes up and goes down. Tommy's just saying. He likes a little balance between what might hurt and what feels good.

"Like my name instead of 'dude'?" Adam tugs again, whispering the words right into Tommy's ear. "We need to make the buses stop so that we can get on the right one."

" _Maybe_ ," Tommy grins, feeling half-hot and half shivery, and even after almost a year, that whisper of Adam's voice makes Tommy want to do _bad things._ "You're the rock star, you make the buses stop." He turns and looks up at Adam, just a smile away from kissing. " _Adam._ Your name, like that?"

"That works." Adam takes the kiss, easy and light at first, before deepening it to something much like what they'd done on stage, but with less show and more tell; more tongue and more clear knowledge of what their mouths could do together. "Don't move." He extricates his hand from Tommy's shirt and goes to the front to ask the drivers to make a quick pit stop.

When Adam comes back, Tommy's lazed out on the couch, chewing at his lower lip. His eyes flick up to Adam's face and he grins. "Well, rock star? How much time do I have to suck you off before the buses stop? Or are we pulling over right now?" Tommy Joe's gaze is warm and not at all subtle as he checks Adam out, from eyes to lips, throat to chest, stomach to groin. And that's just where Tommy stops.

"You're not sucking me off in the area that smells like leftover food and where anyone can walk in. I'm not _that_ much of an exhibitionist!" Adam braces himself against a cabinet as he feels the bus start to pull over; he smirks. "It's good to be king," he laughs and he beckons Tommy to follow him, jogging from one bus to the other so they could take off again.

"You're totally the king. That reminds me, when was the last time we had Burger King? I could totally rock a Whopper anytime soon." Tommy follows Adam off and back on, and this bus is so much quieter. It takes a moment to sink in, but Tommy realizes that they've got the bus to themselves, virtually, since the dancers have all gone to bed behind their curtains. _Decent!_

It doesn't smell either, except of some incense from earlier, and it's relatively tidy. Taking Tommy's hand, Adam leads the way past the bunks to the sliding door that lead the way to Adam's small room, dominated by the big bed, of course. That's where Adam starts to pull off Tommy's t-shirt while toeing off his own shoes.

"So you and Taylor, huh?" Tommy lifts his arms so Adam can strip him, and he pulls up Adam's shirt, after. "That's... pretty hot, actually." Tommy's pants sit below his hips, the crack of his ass only saved by blue and red striped shorts. At least there's something in the front to keep his pants from falling down, and he presses it to Adam's thigh when he kisses Adam again.

"He's sweet, and bi, just like you," Adam says when his shirt is off, undoing the fly of Tommy's pants to let them give in to gravity, smirking at the circus colors. "His girlfriend gave him a note saying it was okay for me to fuck him."

"You want a note from Liz?" Tommy looks down at his shorts and at Adam's appraisal of them. "Oh, give it up, they're coming off." He pushes them down and kicks them off, leaving Tommy naked and Adam half-clothed. So Tommy cups his hand and rubs it against the front of Adam's pants before tugging at the fly.

Adam cants his hips forward, cock hardening under the touch. "I'll talk to her myself. I don't need a piece of paper." And he grins, a little sharply. "We can compare notes." He combs over Tommy's hair with both hands.

"That's interesting," Tommy answers, both of his eyebrows going up. "Maybe I should talk to Taylor, then." He gets up on his toes and nips Adam's lower lip, then settles down again, so if Adam wants to kiss him, he'll have to come and get it. He slides his palm down inside Adam's shorts.

"Let me know what you decide. We can always play together." There's another wicked smile and Adam crawls over Tommy's body on the bed, shedding his pants and boxers as he goes. He knees Tommy's legs apart and bends down, licking into his mouth.

 _You're a pervert,_ Tommy almost says, but Adam's mouth is on his and the idea of a threesome with Taylor (or maybe Liz, who even knows?) is pretty fucking hot. Tommy guesses it makes him a pervert, too. His knees fall to the sides as black-chipped nails drag dully down Adam's back.

From there, the movements are easy and instinctive. Adam seems to touch Tommy everywhere, finally ending with slicked fingers buried tight in Tommy's body, rocking with Adam's mouth on his neck.

"Shit, fuck," Tommy gasps, beyond the point of caring how he reacts. He's pushing up into Adam's fingers, one hand tight on the back of Adam's hip, the other fisted in his hair. "Want you." Muffled against Adam's hair, gravelled and low. "So fuckin' much."

Adam smiles again, teeth grazing along the jut of Tommy's collarbone even as he's reaching for a condom from the drawer of the built-in nightstand next to the bed. Just by turning his head, he rips the package open with his teeth then rolls it on. Replacing his fingers, he starts to push in with a low groan.

Tommy sucks a short, shallow breath and tips his head back, eyes closed as he goes from the sensation of fingers to _full._ He feels shivery and hot and tight, heels pressed down against the bed so he can keep his hips up for Adam who moves just like he does on stage, sinuous with rolls of his hips.

The bed doesn't creak - an advantage to being attached to the floor. Adam smiles against Tommy's mouth, taking one wrist, then the other and pinning them both over Tommy's head against the headboard. Then, using one hand to keep them there, he leans back enough to _snap_ his hips forward, jarring Tommy into the bed.

The dancers that are sleeping on the bus are forgotten, entirely. Tommy shouts out a sound, body arching up, pinned at the wrists and hips by Adam. "Fuck me," Tommy tells Adam. "Oh god, just _fuck_ me." Between them, his cock is so hard it almost hurts, skin tight, hot, throbbing.

"Shhhh." With a grin, Adam leans forward and he licks over Tommy's mouth. "You'll wake everyone up." But he jerks his hips forward, starting a fast, almost staccato rhythm.

Tommy bites down on his noise, reducing it from something loud to something little more than a helpless squeak, and then he shudders out, "Sorry." He's _aching_ for Adam to touch his cock, but then Adam thrusts the right way or Tommy moves the right way. It makes Tommy see great white bursts behind his eyelids, and he hums out a low, thin sound in his chest. When it feels like _that_ , sometimes Tommy doesn't need to have his dick touched at all.

The rhythm doesn't change, staying hard and just as fast. Adam's breathing gets audible, sweat beading at his hairline. He falls to his elbows, his fingers laced with Tommy's as he kisses him again, breathless.

When Adam's body changes position, it gives Tommy just a little bit of friction to rub against, and he squeezes Adam's hands as the pace of their hips jerks Tommy steadily closer. "Adam," Tommy blurs between kisses. "Gonna."

The response he gets is a throaty growl and Adam bites into Tommy's earlobe. But he doesn't stop moving, hips slapping against Tommy's ass. "Come on, Glitterbaby," he urges. "Give it to me."

Tommy's heels scrabble at the bed for that one teetering moment of _wait_ , and then he cries out again, fingers digging into Adam's hips hard enough to leave eight shadowy circles on his skin, later. Tommy comes hard, tight around Adam and slick and hot between them as Tommy makes breathy noises with each jerk of his cock.

It doesn't take very much longer for Adam to follow, hips stutter-starting as he comes before stopping all together, light, breathed-out kisses peppered all along Tommy's neck and jaw. "You sound so pretty when you come," he whispers, grinning.

"Maybe you should make me come more often," Tommy croaks, still panting. He's smiling, though, fingers carding through Adam's hair and feeling the soft buzz of it on the sides. "You _look_ so pretty when you come. And sound. And act. And... everything. It's a package deal." He tugs Adam's hair lightly to get him to lifts his head so they can kiss.

"I bet you come plenty," Adam said, bonking noses first, then grinning as he kisses Tommy back. "Don't forget I remember you said you wanted to fuck me so you could sleep in my bed. You're so transparent, Tommy Joe."

"Mostly I wanted to get laid. The bed's a secondary thing." Tommy stretches beneath Adam. "Where are my socks? We gotta clean up before I totally partake in the bed. And you." Tommy's grin is impish. Yes, he's transparent, so sue him.

"You are _not_ using your socks to clean up with. That's disgusting and I already hear enough about your bunk and its stank." With a groan, though, Adam pulls out and rolls to his back, peeling off the condom then and tossing it into the trash. "You should let Liz at you with a strap-on. That could be fun."

"No, that'd be weird." But there'd be boobs _and_ dick involved, and once Tommy's brain puts the picture together entirely, it's... actually kind of hot. "Well, maybe." He gets out of bed and hunts around for a sock, then ditches it in favour of his t-shirt for the wipedown. "Why don't you come and spend a night with me in my stanky bunk? Oh yeah, because it's not stanky. You can ask Liz."

"Your bunk is stanky and coffin-like. This is big. I'll take my bed, thanks. Have you heard of a towel? Gross." An arm under his head, Adam watches, though. His ankles are crossed even. "Are you guys dating? Or just fucking? Inquiring minds want to know," he said with an easy smile.

Tommy shrugs and gets back into bed, the t-shirt balled up next to his pants on the floor again. "It is what it is. It's cool and it's easy and we both get laid a lot. We like each other." He gets comfortable, flumping out on his stomach with an arm thrown across Adam's chest. . "I wish I had a bed. Though bunk sex? Highly underrated."

"I know." Adam grins outright, but doesn't say anything beyond that, his gaze far away for a minute, fingers tracing along Tommy's arm. "You'll love Europe, baby. A few more hotel stays there, but it'll be amazing."

"I'm looking forward to Amsterdam." Tommy edges closer to Adam, putting his leg across Adam's, as well. Tucking himself in. "Hotels are okay. It means getting a real bed. Sometimes a king size, if I'm sleeping with the king." Tommy makes a sleepy Elvis-noise, _ah-huh-huh_ , and then goes quiet.

"Ridiculous," Adam chuckles. Then, without disturbing Tommy too much, he gets the covers up and over them and closes his eyes, falling asleep finally with Tommy's face in his chest.


End file.
